Falling and Rising
by Sydders2303
Summary: Firefly, a psychopath has been let loose in the Minstrail city. What will happen. Firefly Xephos' evil split personality.


FALLING AND RISING.

Fire lit up the town and people fled their homes to get to safety. He had come yet again and the hero wouldn't be aware. His coat rustling in the wind and his dark brown hair covering the top of his face. Red glowing eyes amused by the sight of terror and a smile that would disturb the most content of people. Fire, fire is his creation. He is the terror and the terror is his slave. Houses burned and the occupants fled. Farms would be destroyed, live stock butchered. Walls would be graffitied with harsh pictures of fire and death. Fear is his companion and destruction his weapon of choice. A chess game with life and death he is the death and the enemy, life, but life has yet to rise after the destruction, for destruction is life and life is destruction.

He wandered through his masterpiece of the burning village, screams and panicked villagers. A house that was not yet burned...the mansion of the county. A prize worth winning, even if it's a bit pricey. He dragged his hands across the railing leading up to the double doors.

"Family estate...quite a bargain," the voice of a psychopath, his voice. A voice so easy to trust, but when uncovered, hell is unleashed.

He wandered up the stairs into the main room, a mother and father with their son sat in the corner.

"Are...you...scared?" An emphasis on scared as if to unnerve them whilst pausing between each word.

The child left his post by his father and turned to the psychopath, "No, I'm not!"

He laughed, then paused to look at his new enemy.

"12...11...you have guts, kid. But you still have to go," He reached in his pocket, took out a match stick " let the world know, my name is Firefly!"

Firefly, a crazy name for a crazy person, he struck the match and held it next to the child's face..." Let my doing be your undoing." He placed the match on the floor before covering the house in oil, which he had managed to achieve from his pockets. " Night, night. Don't let the firefly bite!" He laughed in hysterics the way a maniac does and left the house to burn with a swish of his coat.

"All down, one to go..." Firefly had one house left to destroy, his home, or rather his other's home. Firefly had no lover, children or siblings he was an only child and his parents had died a few years after he was born. His other was himself, his other self...the goodie two shoes, hero. That's what the towns people called him. A hero.

"Tell me Minstrail, what hero leaves his home town to burn into ashes? Hum! What hero?" He yelled at the sky, filled with ashes and smoke.

Firefly walked up to the house. 'The mahogany house' what name was that? " I was pathetic! A Mahogany house! Wood, I should know better...I do like flammable material though," he though aloud.

He entered the house and enter the living room. Pouring oil on the carpets, he noticed a cot with two arm poking out, gurgling noises as if the child inside like the sight of fire. Firefly picked the child up and examined it. As far as he knew he had no wife, he had no siblings for this to belong to. All he had a a friend he killed in a fit of rage to end the heroes. Who was this child belonging to.

"You're in my domain now." Firefly had no plan on raising a child but as an infant he could train her. Train her to be death and destruction, bring fear into those who mock her. A name would be needed for such a criminal..."Enya, my little fire to kindle into a raging flame!" He struck another match dropped it into the oil at took the baby infant back to his home. Walking through the streets, fire and bombs exploding in front of him, Enya seemed to like this as people screamed she laughed, at them? Surely not.

Years passed and Minstrial had repaired itself from the damage Firefly had done. Enya was 12 and old enough to start training. Firefly regretted the idea of training a child, having sentimental value to another living being, but he wanted Minstrail to fall, once and for all. Enya would make friends, a gang of pure destruction. Her reputation at school would be outstanding and many would envy her. Enya...his little fire, a raging fury.

When Enya was sixteen she had many friends and all of them trouble makers, all of them enemies to Minstrail.

Enya had three main friends in her gang. Four of them to make one family.

Daisy, her first friend. A red headed girl with a raging temper, not to shy to tell you where you stand. She was the daughter of a great warrior. Her father was cast out of Minstrail, wrongly convicted of murder.

Berty, her second friend. A tall, black haired boy with a great skill of theft, he's not bad with a sword either. He was the son of a farmer and lumberjack, the two most wanted criminals, after her father. He he wanted revenge on the town that teased him.

Her final friend. Damien. A blonde boy with purple spirals engraved on his arms. He was good with potions, tech, machines you name it he could hack into it. Any system in the world. Damien was cast out of Minstrail as a child. A scientist finding in the forest experimented psychologically with him to creat the evil gueinius.

Finally, Enya. A red head with the ability to fly, light fire with her hands and to kill in cold blood. She was the brains of the gang and she was their leader. She hates the heros as much as her father.

They each had code names as well incase of an emergency. Daisy was bacon after her grandmothers famous recipe. Berty was squid after the explosion his father planned. Damien was goggles because he is the evil scientist and Enya was inferno because of her powers.

Alone they were useless minorities in the criminal world but together they were a raging flame of destruction.

Fire lit up the town and people fled their homes to get to safety. They had come yet again and the hero wouldn't be aware. Enya and her gang wrecking her town, each personality more corrupt than the other. Each one blood thirsty criminals. Destruction is their humour. Fire, fire is their creation. They are the terror and the terror is their slave. Houses burned and the occupants fled. Farms would be destroyed, live stock butchered. Walls would be graffitied with harsh pictures of fire and death. Fear is their companion and knowledge their weapon of choice. A chess game with life and death he is the death and the enemy, life, but life has yet to rise after the destruction, for destruction is life and life is destruction.


End file.
